


Otayuri Kink Meme Fills

by Lady_Ganesh



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Facials, Frottage, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Kink Meme, M/M, Masturbation, Possessive Behavior, Yuri!!! on Ice Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-11-22 11:24:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11379219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: What it says on the box! Each 'chapter' is an individual fill with its own set of warnings, shenanigans, etc. I have done my best to be accurate with them!





	1. Obedience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: _Otayuri D/s with sub!Otabek_
> 
> _I don't have anything specific in mind, just Otabek kneeling in front of Yuri and whatever might come out of that (foot-kissing, cock worship, etc)_
> 
> What there is is kneeling, begging, oral sex and some handcuffs.  
> 
> Grammar has been cleaned up for posting; written in present tense if that's not your thing.

They have five hours until Yuri has to meet the rest of his team at the hotel entrance. Four hours until they have to stop, because they'll have to clean up and get their clothes on and maybe shower, and Yuri's still planning on sneaking back into his room like he hasn't spent hours in Otabek's instead. The team knows he's somewhere, but he doesn't have to give them the whole story. This is his. No one else's.  
  
Otabek has gotten taller since the last time they were together. His head is just above Yuri's knee now. He looks good on his knees, but Yuri already knew that.  
  
The last time they'd tried this, it had been Yuri, and for ten minutes it had been all right and for thirty seconds it'd been terrible and then for two hours Yuri had been curled on his bed repeating "I'm fine, don't touch me" every fifteen minutes. Otabek had asked,  _what if it's me next time?_  
  
So that's what they're trying, what if it's Otabek. Otabek on his knees, naked but for the leather cuffs keeping his hands in front of his body. Yuri runs his hands across Otabek's short hair and Otabek closes his eyes.  
  
"No," Yuri said, and Otabek's eyes fly open, dark lashes still wearing last night's mascara. "Look at me."  
  
Otabek's chin dips, just a little. Yes.  
  
Yuri takes Otabek's chin in his hand. "Good," he says, squeezing. Fuck, he's hard. He'll be lucky if he doesn't spill all over Otabek's face before they even get started. The full-length mirror in the room is behind Otabek, which means Yuri can see all of him, the muscles in his back and shoulders and arms. The curve of his ass. Otabek is fucking  _perfect_  and strong as hell and he's  _here,_  kneeling at Yuri's feet. As willing to please as Victor's fucking dog.  
  
_Mine._  
  
Yuri lets go of Otabek and unzips, willing his fucking dick to stay in line.  _Not yet. Nothing yet._  He gets himself in hand and thinks of that goddamn dog, because if there's a bigger boner-killer than a fucking  _poodle_  he doesn't know what it is. It doesn't really help, because nothing fucking helps, but at least he doesn't feel quite as close to the edge. "Is this what you want?" He pauses, then realizes he hasn't given permission. "You can talk," he said. "Tell me. Is this what you want?"  
  
"Yes," Otabek says, and his voice isn't the calm, measured tone Yuri's used to. Yuri's dick twitches in his hand. "Please."  
  
"Please  _what?"_  Yuri says, hoping his voice sounds steadier than he feels.  _"Tell me."_  
  
"Let me."  
  
Yuri slips a finger in Otabek's mouth, and Otabek sucks it, obedient, needy. Yuri's aching, but putting him off, teasing him, is almost as good. "You want to suck me?" Yuri asks, and Otabek moans, a deep, low sound that reverberates right in Yuri's spine.  
  
Yuri pulls his finger out. "Tell me," he says, again.  
  
"Let me suck you," Otabek says, his voice unsteady. "Please, Yuri."  
  
"Beg me."  
  
"I  _am_  begging you." Otabek licks his lips. "Please.  _Please."_  
  
"You want it."  
  
"Yuri," Otabek said, and his voice is tight now, needy. "Please."  
  
"Open your mouth," Yuri says, and okay, that sounds a little shaky, but Otabek sounded worse, so that was okay, probably. "Open it wide."   
  
Otabek obeys, and Yuri grabs the base of his own cock, thinking about the cold air that hit you after the sauna, the kind that sent your balls running for cover and made you feel like your skin was coated with frost.  
  
"You want it?"  
  
"Please," Otabek says. "Let me. Let me suck you off." His eyes are glued to Yuri's cock, like it's the only thing he's ever wanted, like it's the only thing in the world that even exists.   
  
"Lick it," Yuri says. "The tip. Be gentle."  
  
When Otabek's tongue hits his cock he has to bite his fucking lip to keep from spilling. Otabek's eyes are as intense as always, dark and almost liquid. He licks gently, carefully, like Yuri's cock is something delicate and precious, and Yuri wants to kiss him or slap him or something, anything, he can't fucking  _stand_  it any more.  
  
"Fuck," Yuri says, not bothering to try to control his voice. "Fuck, do it, suck me, just--"  
  
Otabek doesn't even really get Yuri into his mouth before he comes, white lights flashing in the back of his vision, come streaking across Otabek's face and into his dark hair. Otabek takes him into his mouth for the aftershocks, and maybe it's okay when Otabek is stupidly gentle because that feels good, really good. He puts his hand on the back of Otabek's hair, strokes it as the world fades back into focus.   
  
"Shit," he says, when he can talk again. "Are you--?"  
  
Otabek nuzzles his cock. "I'm fine," he said. "Can I stand up?"  
  
"Oh," Yuri said. "Sure, whatever. I--yeah." He takes a half-step back so he can collapse, back first, onto Otabek's mattress. "Fuck. Do you need me to--?"  
  
Otabek has already pulled the cuffs off. He gestures down; he came without Yuri even touching him.  _Fuck._  "I'll get a washcloth," he says.  
  
"Yeah, but come here first," Yuri says, reaching for him. "I wanna lick the come off your face."  
  
Otabek smiles.


	2. Possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt: _Yuri comes to the club where Otabek DJs. They both get off on Yuri flirting and dancing his way through the crowd while Otabek can see him from the booth. Later that night they go home and have rough, hot, possessive sex._
> 
> "You could have gone anywhere," Otabek said. "You wanted me to watch you."
> 
> That's it, that's the story. Handjobs, flirting, Yuri's 17-ish here.

Sometimes, DJing felt even better than skating. It was easier on Otabek's body, anyway.  
  
Tonight was a good night, the crowd easy-going and ready to move, big enough to feel like a real crowd but not so big that people didn’t have room to dance. He could feel the pulse in his feet through the speakers, through the earplugs that were his only concession to his career on nights like this. Hearing damage wouldn't be impossible to work around, but it would be a pain in the ass.  
  
There weren't many blonds in the crowd, which made it easier to spot the short teenager in dark glasses and a tiger print tank top.  
  
Yakov had said he wanted Yuri to get an early night, which meant Yuri had snuck out. His fake ID wasn't good enough to get him in to drink, but it got him through the door. The girl he'd found to flirt with couldn't have been much older than he was, anyway, though she was a good five inches taller. Maybe more, if she wasn't wearing heels.   
  
 _I'm sure your growth spurt will come soon,_  Otabek had said last night, with maybe less sympathy than he should have.  _At least this way you don't have to adjust your jumps._  
  
Yuri had given him the finger.  
  
The girl was leaning in close, her lips brushing his ear.  
  
He needed to change the track. Fuck, Yuri could be distracting. Even back in ballet class, Otabek found himself watching the graceful kid at the barre instead of focusing on what his own body should have been doing. It was worse now they weren’t kids.  
  
A lot worse.  
  
Otabek tore his gaze from the dance floor and crossfaded to the next track. By the time he had things under control again, Yuri had moved from the tall girl to a black guy with an old school high-and-tight. Mesh shirt, easy smile. Otabek hated him instantly. The guy had a dark-haired friend, tan skin, with a ponytail, and together they ground against Yuri until Otabek was clenching his jaw and half-wondering if he should tell the bouncer that the blond pretty boy getting all the attention was underage.  
  
But he went back to work, letting himself sink into the music again, as Yuri spun away from them and found a second couple to flirt with, this time two slender women in miniskirts who couldn't keep their hands to themselves.  
  
Otabek glanced at his phone. Shit, he had an hour and a half left to go. This was going to be  _torture._  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yuri looking up at the DJ booth. Yuri winked.  
  
  
"You didn't have to let him put his hand down your pants," Otabek growled, as he opened the door to the apartment and let Yuri in.  
  
"I didn't," Yuri said. "They're too tight for that, didn't you notice?"  
  
"I  _noticed,"_  Otabek said, shoving him against the door, letting it slam. "And I noticed you feeling up that redhead in the miniskirt."  
  
Yuri snorted. "I don't even like girls."  
  
Otabek pinned him, an arm on either side of Yuri's body. "You like making me jealous."  
  
"You like finding reasons to be jealous."  
  
Otabek kissed him to shut him up, because the argument wasn't going to end, and getting his hands on Yuri was the best way to make up for all those  _other_ hands. Yuri moaned into his mouth, then kissed back hard. Otabek shoved a hand under Yuri's tank top, reached for a nipple and tweaked it, feeling Yuri's hips buck against him.  
  
Yuri broke the kiss. "You know you don't own me," he said. "You can't--"  
  
"You could have gone anywhere," Otabek said. "You wanted me to watch you."  
  
Of course he did. They both knew it. This wasn't the first time or the second or the fifth.   
  
But this was the first time Yuri said, "Yeah." He licked at his lips. "Of course I fucking want you to watch me." He looked a little uncertain for a moment, then gained confidence as he talked. "I want to be the only person you even look at."  
  
"Hard to do that when you have everyone else feeling you up."  
  
"Sure," Yuri said, out of breath, pushing back against him. "Because nobody in that club wanted to fuck the  _DJ._  Like I didn't spent half my time listening to people talk about how hot you are--"  
  
"Was that before or after you let them corner you in the men's?"  
  
Yuri was screwing with Otabek's zipper. "Did you paint these fucking jeans on?"  
  
"You liked them earlier."  
  
"Yeah, that's before I knew I'd need a crowbar to get them  _off--"_  
  
Otabek snorted and put his hands down to help him, shoving his jeans off his ass, smirking at Yuri's groan as Yuri realized he wasn't wearing underwear. His dick felt overheated, even in the cool air of the hotel room. He’d turned the air conditioner extra low. It didn’t help.  
  
"Fuck," Yuri said. "How do you fucking--you drive me fucking  _crazy."_  
  
Otabek pulled his shirt over his head, tossed it off, pushed Yuri back against the door and kissed him again. He wanted to get the smell of the bar off him. Replace all the hands that had been on Yuri's body with his own touch.   
  
He wanted to drop down on his knees but he wanted this too, Yuri yanking his own dick out of the leather pants and wrapping his hand around both their cocks, jerking hard. Otabek wanted to pull off the rest of Yuri's clothes but there was no time. He wanted too fucking much.   
  
Yuri whispered up into Otabek's ear: "The guy in the men's offered me five hundred dollars to suck him off."  
  
It hit him like a shot. "What did you tell him?"  
  
"What do you think?" Yuri hissed, and Otabek came in his hand, felt Yuri's grunt as he fell over the edge. Come splattered against Yuri's leather pants.  
  
Otabek leaned against him until they'd both caught their breath. Yuri tipped his head up so they could kiss again, gentler this time.  
  
"Did he really?" Otabek asked. He was half-hard again. He wondered when Yuri would need to sneak back in.  
  
"He started at fifty," Yuri said. "But I'm worth more than that."  
  
Otabek grabbed Yuri by the ass, lifting him as Yuri wrapped his legs around Otabek's body, and headed for the bed.


	3. Welcome to the Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt: _After Welcome to the Madness, Otabek continues where he left off during the performance and removes all Yuri's clothes with his teeth, then sucks him off._
> 
> _Alternatively, after WTTM, Otabek furiously jerks off while fantasizing about doing that._
> 
> This is the 'furiously jerks off' version. (Otabek's torn between duty and his hormones. It's going to be a long few months.)

Otabek made a  _point_  of telling Yuri he was too young to be in the club at sixteen. A point. Of trying to keep him at home so no one would end up on the front pages later.  
  
 _I'm a fucking idiot,_  he thought to himself.   
  
He was well aware that the weight of the entire Kazakh skating program rested on his shoulders. He had to be responsible. Follow the rules.  _Don't drag underage kids into bars. Keep it in your pants. Look but don't touch._  
  
Aside from that finger in his  _mouth--_  
  
Fuck. Otabek breathed, low, steady. The stall door was locked, and if he was lucky no one would need to piss for the next--shit. Five minutes? It wasn't going to take that long. In his mind, he was already on his knees, pulling at Yuri's fly with his teeth. The  _want_  was enough to eat him alive, and the only thing that saved him was Yuri's focus on his own performance, on the screaming crowd. On stealing the attention he'd craved so much.  
  
He was going to jack himself raw before morning.  
  
He closed his eyes.  _Faster,_  the Yuri in his mind urged, and he gnawed at the fly, the cool metal against his tongue.  _Fuck, can't you do it any faster than that?_  
  
What was it about Yuri Plietsky that made Otabek want to do this? Want to do whatever he wants?  
  
His hand worked his cock, harder, almost frantic now. Not much time. Think about Yuri, as desperate as Otabek, moaning, urging him on. Pulling Yuri's pants down once the fly was open, gnawing at the dance belt. Getting Yuri's cock into his mouth, fuck, finally,  _fuck--_  
  
That was enough, finally, Otabek's head smacking against the stall door as he came and came and came. He'd probably stay half-hard for the rest of the night, but the edge was off, at least. He'd make it through the banquet without embarrassing himself.  
  
Someone needed to keep Katsuki from the champagne. He wasn't sure anyone could handle a second dance-off tonight.  
  
Almost sixteen.  _Almost_  sixteen.  
  
Otabek grabbed some toilet paper and cleaned up, let his breathing return to normal. One more night and he could go home.  
  
He hoped to hell Yuri wouldn't have any more ideas before dawn.


	4. For the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri is upset. Otabek grounds him.
> 
> For the prompt: _Yuri rides Otabek's thigh until he comes. That's all._
> 
> (A minor health scare is in this story, detail/spoilers in endnotes.)

Yuri was on edge, had been since Otabek had seen him in the back of the club. He managed to step back from mixing long enough to grab some water and send a text:  _What's wrong?_  
  
Nothing.  
  
Well, that was bullshit, but Otabek had to finish the set first. Yuri hovered at the edge of his vision, picking at his jacket sleeves, a bundle of tension. Otabek wanted to grab him and drag him out of the club. Ten more minutes in this set, ten-minute break, second set.   
  
Yuri could wait. It'd be fine.  
  
It'd probably be fine.  
  
  
By the time he got to Yuri, Yuri was practically vibrating, his hands and eyes glued to his phone. "Hey," Otabek said, more out of habit than any belief Yuri would hear him. He touched Yuri’s shoulder, bracing himself for Yuri's reaction.  
  
Yuri just melted into him, burying his face in Otabek's neck, pushing Otabek back against the wall.  
  
That was bad. Really fucking bad. Vasily's office was usually empty this time of night, unless someone was freaking out and needed some quiet. Otabek decided that this qualified. He pulled at Yuri, and Yuri hesitated, then wrapped himself around Otabek.  
  
It wasn't the most elegant way to get back into Vasily's office, but it worked, and the office was empty. Otabek dropped into Vasily's nice leather office chair and tried to peel Yuri off enough to talk to him. It was quieter with the door closed, insulated from the noise and music. "Tell me what's wrong," he said. "Did somebody give you something? Are you--"  
  
"I'm  _fine,"_  Yuri said, still shaking a little. "She's fine. It's fine. I don't know why I'm being so  _stupid_  about this."  
  
"It's all right," Otabek said. "Your fire is what makes you strong. Don't be ashamed of who you are."  
  
"I can't even believe you say shit like that," Yuri muttered into his shoulder, but it seemed to help.  
  
"Who's all right? Tell me what happened."  
  
"Potya," Yuri said. "She--I guess it was an abscess, and the petsitter saw it, and he took her to the vet and she's fine but--what if she hadn't been? What if I'd been stuck here and she was--” He sucked in breath. “Fuck. I know it's stupid."  
  
"You love her," Otabek said. He stroked Yuri's hair.   
  
"Yeah." Yuri sat back. "How long do you have?"  
  
"Ten minutes." Maybe less, but no one would complain if he was a little late. The clubs were practically the only place where people thought Yuri was a good influence on him instead of the other way around.  
  
Yuri took a breath, let it out. He put his face down to kiss Otabek, hungry, greedy, his hands pushing under Otabek's t-shirt. "Can I--"  
  
"Yeah," he said. "Whatever you need."  
  
Yuri moaned into his shoulder, straddled his thigh, his fingers bruising into Otabek's sides. He kissed Otabek again, riding along his leg. Otabek could feel him getting harder.  
  
Otabek kissed his ear, his cheek, whatever he could find with his mouth. Yuri panted, his legs working, iron-hard skater's thighs against his own. Otabek's cock throbbed in his jeans. A little part of him would've slid Yuri back, pushed him against the desk, but he knew Yuri's urgency too well. This was what he needed. This was what Otabek could give. Later, they'd go back to the apartment and he'd have more time, be able to strip the layers of leather and spandex off Yuri and get his mind off Potya and St. Petersburg completely for a while.  
  
Right now, Yuri was shaking in his arms, silent, his blunt nails pressing into Otabek's back. Otabek sucked at his neck, not hard enough to bruise, just enough to let Yuri feel the pressure. Yuri was muttering something, low, Russian and English and what Otabek was pretty sure was Japanese, the words flowing together, meaningless.  
  
_"Fuck--"_  
  
There, that was it, Yuri coming in his compression pants, wet and hot on Otabek's thigh. Fuck, they'd have to clean that up. Vasily kept tissues on the desk, maybe he had--  
  
"Fuck," Yuri said, back to Russian. "I made a goddamn mess of this shit."  
  
"It's fine," Otabek said. "We'll get some seltzer water or something. See what Vasily has in the drawer.”  
  
"I should--" Yuri's hand brushed Otabek's erection, and Otabek felt fire rush through his body.  
  
He bit the inside of his cheek. "Later," he said. "I've got my next set. Let's get cleaned up."  
  
Yuri grabbed him by the jacket, held him in place for a second. "Thanks," he said. "I...just. Thanks."  
  
Otabek kissed his forehead. "I'm glad she's okay," he said.  
  
"Yeah," Yuri said, finally sliding off his lap. "Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potya gets hurt but she's okay. ♥


End file.
